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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343222">watch you breathe in (watch you breathing out)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwoht/pseuds/dwoht'>dwoht</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Glee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff and Angst, Sad boi hours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:21:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27343222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwoht/pseuds/dwoht</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn is unlike anyone Rachel has ever met before. She seems so freed from the burdens of life and the impact of tomorrow. It’s like it doesn’t even exist to her. Everything they do, they do like it’s the most important thing in the world. Everything Rachel says, Quinn listens like she’s revealing the secrets of the universe. And every time Quinn speaks, there's a silent desperation to it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>watch you breathe in (watch you breathing out)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel hates flowers. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">More specifically, she hates the bouquet she spent three hours building with a very patient florist from around the corner. There’s a bundle of flowers with names Rachel couldn’t remember if she tried, some lavender for scent, and of course, a single red rose. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She hates it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Really, it’s beautiful, but it doesn’t feel right. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’ll never feel right,” she mumbles to herself. She almost wants to throw away the flowers altogether, but they <em>did</em> cost about sixty bucks. “Stupid.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She hurries to catch the elevator just before the doors close, and is too busy staring down at the explosion of petals in her hand to realize there’s someone else next to her. Vaguely, she registers a voice, and then after a couple more seconds, she realizes the voice is talking to <em>her </em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, what?” she apologizes lamely. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman throws her a thousand-watt smile and a shrug, blonde hair shaking gently, and Rachel gets so distracted with trying to breathe under the piercing green eyes being directed at her that she almost misses her question again. “Which floor?” the woman repeats. For someone with such a presence, her voice is oddly smooth and soft. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uh, seven. I think.” Rachel wishes she was better at… this, but the directory at the front of the hospital floats to the front of her mind and she nods. “Yeah, seven.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silence. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, “Those are nice flowers.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks, they’re, uh, for my friend,” Rachel says. Her tongue feels too large for her mouth, her mind refuses to slow down, and she wishes this nice — unnecessarily beautiful — lady would tone down her cheerful smile and stop talking to her so she can just <em>be</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You visiting?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Takethehinttakethehinttakethehint.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The woman doesn't, and opens her mouth again. Rachel wills her floor to come, but then words tumble from the stranger's mouth like she can read Rachel's mind. “Sorry, it’s just, you look nervous. And I happen to find myself here a lot, so if your nerves have anything to do with being, you know, <em>here</em>, I’d be glad to help.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel sighs, and without even missing a beat, she stumbles through, “I’m here to see my friend for the first time because I’ve been away for work for the past couple weeks and he just had surgery to remove a tumor but he still needs another surgery for a second tumor that they didn’t want to risk getting the first time and then he has to get a bunch of chemo or whatever and I don’t know what to say to him when I see him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before she can even think about taking back the longest sentence of her life, the woman offers her a smaller smile, and then starts talking again. “Just greet him as you would. Play it cool. I mean, not <em>too</em> cool. It would be nice to remind him that you’ll always be his friend, but then talk about whatever you normally do.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel’s floor comes, and she shifts the flowers to her other hand. “Okay.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, and one other thing,” the woman says. Rachel turns with one foot out of the elevator and cocks her head to one side. “Remember to breathe.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel <em>does </em>remember to breathe, and she <em>does </em>remember to say something dumb and sappy about their friendship, and she <em>does </em>remember to ease the conversation away from the cancer and back to the usual suspects. She finds she forgets they’re even in a hospital and it seems as though they’re back in Finn’s living room, lounging on his ridiculously expensive couch, watching Schitt’s Creek on his ridiculously large television. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two days later, she’s back at hospital, and stumbles into the same woman again in the cafeteria. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fancy seeing you here again. It must be fate,” she says with a smile, because she’s trying not to do that thing where she rambles for minutes on end and scares the other person off. “My name is Rachel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quinn,” the woman replies. She motions to the seat in front of her, and Rachel gratefully lays her tray down and sits.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, is it rude to ask why you’re here?” Rachel wonders. Then she flushes. “Well, I already asked, I guess. But you can tell me to shut up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” Quinn says. There’s a smile on her lips that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but her voice seems genuine when she says, “same as you, I guess. Visiting a friend of mine that’s really sick.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How sick?” Rachel says, before she can stop herself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and just pokes at the piece of watermelon on her tray. Then, “Terminal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh.” She hasn’t been involved in the whole cancer scene that long, but she knows what <em>that </em>means.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“At this point, there’s nothing else they can do for her, so she’s just living out the rest of her days in the hospital,” Quinn says with a shrug. “They give her a couple months, six at most.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m so sorry,” Rachel says. She tries to think of something to say that doesn’t accidentally make it about her, but she can’t stop herself from feeling horrible about the fact that while Finn’s illness is a bump in the road, it’s just a bump. It’s not the end.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As if Quinn can read her mind, she shakes her head. “It’s good that your friend is going to get better. Surviving is not a competition.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know, I just —” Rachel stops, realizing she doesn’t know what she was trying to say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” is all Quinn says. Rachel wants to say something else, <em>anything</em>, but they’re interrupted by an alarm erupting from Quinn’s phone. She stops it and flips it over before Rachel can read what the alarm was for, and then plasters on a diplomatic smile. “I should be getting back to her.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, of course,” Rachel says quickly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She watches as Quinn gathers up her food neatly, most of which remains to be eaten, then slips her phone into the chest pocket of her jean jacket, and returns her tray. She almost blushes and pretends she wasn’t staring when Quinn turns on her way out, but Quinn’s eyes hold hers tightly, and when she smiles she almost believes it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rachel?” she says. “It was good to see you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They don’t run into each other again for almost a week, and Rachel is starting to wonder if Quinn’s friend actually died, when she finds her again. Or, really, it’s the other way around. She has her fist held up to Finn’s hospital room door, and is preparing to knock.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She spins around, a scream dying in her throat when she recognizes who it is. “Quinn.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quinn,” she agrees.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel wonders how she always looks so put together in her vaguely eighties outfits, perfect makeup, and probably the most effortlessly styled hair she has ever seen, while Rachel always seems to find herself at the hospital wearing her worst.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Rachel says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A week,” Quinn nods. Rachel feels somewhat pleased that she noted her absence, and Quinn gestures vaguely towards the door. “Mind if I join you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure?” Rachel asks, somewhat confused. Quinn perks up and pushes past her gently, blowing into the room, and leaving a cloud of her scent. Hospital, something floral, and something that smells like nothing Rachel can name except just ‘Quinn.’</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you going to come in?” Finn calls from his bed. “Or, do you need to be invited, like a vampire?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She rolls her eyes and hastily follows the blonde inside, eyes narrowing at the sight of her sitting on the edge of Finn’s bed like she’s been there before. She almost entertains the idea that <em>Finn </em>is the friend she visits here, but the notion is dismissed as quickly as it comes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Finn,” she says, setting a vanilla bean Frappuccino on his bedside table. “Brought your favorite.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What would I do without you?” he sighs, reaching for it and taking a sip.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Suffer through hospital food,” Rachel says. Quinn is watching the exchange with a look Rachel can’t place, but it prompts her to ask, “So, from the looks of it, you two must know each other?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn immediately shoots Finn a look Rachel also can’t figure out, and then says, “Yeah, he’s friends with the friend I visit here. I met him one day, and we just hit it off.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seriously, I’m pretty sure I like her more than I like <em>you</em>. I think I might be in love,” Finn says, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop it,” is all Rachel can say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine, I’m <em>platonically </em>in love with Quinn,” Finn rectifies. “Happy?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As long as you are,” Rachel says sweetly. “So, what are you up to today?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was going to try and go for a walk,” Finn says, gesturing to the shoes he’s brought onto his bed, but not put on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did your doctor say it's okay?” Rachel asks, moving to undo the laces on the surprisingly spotless white shoes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, mom,” Finn says, rolling his eyes. He swings his legs over the side as Rachel moves to put them on. “Geez, you really <em>are </em>becoming my mom. Quinn, do you want to come?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” she says quickly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You wouldn’t be,” Finn assures her. “Plus, <em>someone </em>has to keep her from killing me before the cancer does.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Finn,” Rachel says, her fingers fumbling over the laces. She rests one hand on his knee and squeezes it too tightly for it to just be comforting. “Stop. You’re not dying.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” he says, gaze softening. “I know, I’m sorry. It was just a joke.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, it sucked,” Rachel says sourly, slipping both shoes on his feet a little too harshly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rachel,” he says, and this time it’s his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s her turn to say, “I know.” Their eyes meet for a few seconds, and then the moment is over, and she’s tying her shoes, and Finn is cracking another joke with Quinn, who’s laughing at Finn, but looking at Rachel.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you need your walker?” Rachel asks. “Or your cane? Maybe we should bring your wheelchair.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rachel, I said I wanted to go on a <em>walk</em>,” Finn says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What if you get tired?” she argues.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then we can send for a nurse,” he says, rolling his eyes. “It’s a hospital, you know. They’re prepared.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t say it, but she can tell that’s his way of reminding her that this is the safest place for him to push himself to take risks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, fine,” she agrees. “Can we go feed the ducks?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pulls out a little paper bag and shakes it around. “I’ve been asking for extra bread, and then saving it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gross,” Rachel says, but she helps him to his feet anyway, and the three of them start down the hall towards the elevators. She turns to Quinn. “Have you fed the ducks here yet?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t say I have,” Quinn says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’re so cute,” Rachel gushes, “except this one duck that bullies the others, so we never feed him because we’re secretly hoping he’ll starve and die.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jesus,” Quinn says, looking highly scandalized, and also a little bit amused.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s asking for it,” Finn says, shrugging, and Rachel can’t help but notice how the shirt he’s wearing is slightly baggy now, when before it used to hug him perfectly. She wonders if maybe <em>he </em>should be eating the bread instead of the ducks, but shakes her head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>This is part of the process</em>, she reminds herself. Finn had warned her that he might look different during treatment and after. By ‘different’ Rachel knows he really meant ‘sick.’</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, what do you do?” Rachel asks, after tossing the first piece of bread in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m a writer,” Quinn says. “So, mostly, I write.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh?” Rachel says, turning to face her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rachel is a journalist,” Finn says. “Which means she uses her tendency to annoy people into telling her things, and then writes about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s so cool,” Quinn says, ignoring the way Rachel smacks Finn on the back of his head. “I always wanted to do that, but, I don’t think it’ll be possible.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?” Rachel asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn shrugs. “I’m just not that kind of person,” she says, but Rachel can’t shake the feeling that it’s not the whole truth. After all, Quinn might be the most likable, personable person she’s ever met. Perfect for journalism. Quinn must spot her doubt because she adds, “I write fiction, which is, like, the exact opposite.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“More similar than you might think,” Rachel says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, enough writing talk,” Finn mutters.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel rolls her eyes. “Then there’s Finn, who only knows what a book is if it’s been turned into a movie — look, it’s Rambo!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rambo?” Quinn questions.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My favorite duck. He always lets the other ducks eat first,” she explains.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Actually, I think he’s just slow,” Finn observes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn hits him in the shoulder. “Don’t be mean. I think it’s cute.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, do you?” he mumbles.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>—</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite there being no conscious effort on her part (that she’d admit to, at least), Rachel notices that she runs into Quinn pretty much every time she goes to visit Finn, who, this time, has been vomiting non-stop for an hour.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you want me to get a nurse?” Rachel asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finn shakes his head and falls back against his pillows. There’s a light layer of sweat on his forehead, and he’s panting. “No, it’s normal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay…” she says, only able to think, <em>Really?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Go,” Finn says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” she says, practically offended</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get something to eat. Or drink,” he says. She eyes him cautiously, but he waves her away. “Seriously. Watching me yak can’t be all that fun. Come back in an hour and I’ll be better, I promise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fine,” she relents. “One hour.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She even sets a timer on her phone, and is sulking over a cup of tea in the cafeteria when a tray slams down in front of her. She jumps slightly, but she smiles when her eyes travel up to the face of the person holding the tray. “Hey, Quinn.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Rachel,” she greets. “Sorry if I scared you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Rachel says, though her heart rate hasn’t slowed one bit as she starts counting all of Quinn’s freckles.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Visiting Finn?” she asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel nods, even though she knows she already knows the answer. “He's not feeling too well today. He had a treatment this morning, and you know, side effects.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn nods. “Let me guess; vomiting, chills, and muscle spasms?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got it,” Rachel says bitterly, looking into the cheap paper cup she’s gripping for dear life. “I have to be honest; even though I know he’s going to get better, it doesn’t make this part any easier.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course not,” Quinn says. “Seeing a friend in pain is hard no matter what.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” Rachel says. She nibbles on her lower lip and then says, “You know we dated?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” Quinn says carefully, like she’s not sure whether she’s supposed to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel furrows her eyebrows. “Really?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, not in so many words,” Quinn shrugs. “Neither of you <em>said </em>anything, but I can just tell.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He was my first real relationship, first kiss. First everything, really,” Rachel says. Her lips quirk into a smile. “Then I realized I was gay, and so it didn’t really make sense for us to keep dating.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hm,” Quinn hums with an amused smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But I love him,” she says quietly. She looks down at her cup. “Like, I really love him. I always have, I just didn’t used to have the reasoning right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He loves you, too,” Quinn says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Rachel just smiles, taking a deep breath, and her heart knows she’s being honest when she says, “I know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s silence for a few seconds, as Quinn takes the most minuscule bite of pasta ever, and then she puts her fork down and says, “Enough about Finn. How are you doing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me?” Rachel asks. She laughs humorlessly. “I don’t even know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, how’s work?” Quinn tries.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good,” Rachel says, with a genuine smile. “I got put on a really cool project, and if I do well, my supervisor said there’s a chance Time would be interested in hiring me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Time?” Quinn says. “Like, Time Magazine?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” Rachel says. “Really, that’s, like, my dream job.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn frowns. “But…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But, I know that it will mean a lot of traveling,” she says. “And I don’t know how long Finn is going to be here, and I want to be around. I <em>need </em>to be around.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He wouldn’t want you to put your career on hold,” Quinn says. “In fact, he’d be upset if he found out you did.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel is wondering how close Quinn and Finn actually are, considering she’s practically speaking for him, but she just nods. “You’re right.” Then she laughs. “You know, I’m ambitious to a fault. It’s hurt a lot of my friendships over the years, but when I have a goal, I just do everything to make it happen. And then Finn got sick, and suddenly I realized what really matters. It sucks that it took something so drastic for me to… get over myself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ambition isn’t a bad thing,” Quinn says, shrugging. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You like me?” Rachel says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn rolls her eyes. “Keep it in your pants, Berry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I like you, too,” Rachel says. Then a wave of guilt washes over her as she realizes she’s not the only one visiting a sick friend, who she’d completely forgotten about. “And I’m sorry about <em>your</em> friend.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” Quinn says, smile dropping. “I’m at peace with it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Really?” Rachel says. She nods towards the tray in front of Quinn, and hopes she’s not overstepping. “Because you haven’t eaten much, and you look terrible.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks,” Quinn says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know what I mean,” Rachel says, rolling her eyes, because Quinn still looks sinfully beautiful. “You look so <em>tired. </em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t sleep well,” Quinn admits. She swallows, and when she finally meets Rachel’s eyes, there’s an overwhelming sense of fear that takes her breath away. “Sometimes I get scared of going to sleep in case I wake up and she’s gone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quinn,” Rachel says softly. “That’s not…” she wants to say, <em>That’s not healthy</em>, but she figures Quinn already knows that. Finally, she decides on, “That’s not something you can control. You need to sleep.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll try,” Quinn says, though it sounds more like a guess than a promise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next time she sees Quinn is just about the weirdest encounter she’s ever had. The door to Finn’s hospital room is open just a foot, and she sticks her head in to say hi, when she realizes they’re in the middle of a very heated discussion.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can’t just lie about that kind of thing,” Finn says, obviously frustrated.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not <em>lying</em>,” Quinn defends. “It’s... omitting the truth.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, a lie,” he says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look,” Quinn says, shoulders slumping. “It’s just nice to be Quinn for once. Just Quinn.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel has no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but apparently Finn does, because his gaze softens, and he nods. “I understand, Q, I do, it’s just —”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll tell her,” Quinn says. “I promise, okay?” Then she looks up and her eyes connect with Rachel’s, who suddenly feels like she’s intruded on something she wasn’t supposed to see. “Rachel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finn whips his head around, and a mixture of relief, panic, and joy crosses his face in the span of half a second. “Hey, Rachel. How was work?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good,” Rachel says slowly, closing the door behind her. Neither of the two people in front of her seem like they’re going to bring up what just happened, so Rachel doesn’t either. “How are you feeling today?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not great,” Finn admits. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have you eaten?” Rachel asks, any weirdness subsiding as worry takes over.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The food here makes me sick,” Finn says, shaking his head. He gestures to the tray on the counter, clearly untouched.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean?” Rachel says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I guess I’ve thrown up so much that my body just connects hospital food to vomiting and I get nauseous,” he says. “They’re thinking of putting me on a feeding tube.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Finn, no,” Rachel says. “Let me get you something else. Why didn’t you tell me? I can bring you food, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t want to be a bother,” he says, looking practically embarrassed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Since when?” Quinn interjects with a smirk.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>—</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel isn’t exactly sure when things change, but suddenly she’s actually friends with Quinn, and she starts wondering if she should go to the hospital on days she wasn’t planning on seeing Finn just to see if Quinn is there. She realizes how ridiculous that is, and, the next time she runs into Quinn, she asks as casually as she can, “Do you want to get out of here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” Quinn demands.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her eyes widen. “It’s just that we always hang out here, and, like, that’s cool, but also it’s kind of depressing and the food isn’t even half good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry, I didn’t mean to act so surprised,” Quinn says gently. “I just didn’t realize you liked hanging out with me that much.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think we established that I enjoy your company about twenty visits back,” Rachel laughs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn shrugs. “It’s still good to hear it. I know of a really great park nearby; want to take a walk?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’d like that,” Rachel says, shooting Finn a quick text.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s only when they’re walking along the paved path that Rachel notices just how slowly Quinn walks. Compared to the brisk almost jog that Rachel usually falls into, it’s almost painful to match Quinn’s pace, but she manages, and nudges her shoulder a little. “You doing okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn shakes her head. “I thought I was at peace with it,” she starts, and Rachel can only guess she’s referring to her friend. “And I <em>was</em>. I really think that I was. But then something happened, and now all I want is for her to hold on just a little bit longer.” Her lower lip quivers, and there’s a glassy reflection in her eyes when she gazes up at the sky. “All I want is for her to get better.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How is she doing?” Rachel says, guessing that the ‘something’ that happened isn’t a topic she should ask about unless Quinn volunteers the information herself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not good,” Quinn says softly. “She’s really tired all the time now. She hides it well, but it’s like she saves all her energy for my visits. The nurses tell me she barely even walks anywhere anymore just in case I want to take her somewhere. She doesn’t want to say no. And she doesn’t eat much, which is something she really <em>needs </em>to be doing, especially now, and I can’t do anything to help her.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just be with her,” Rachel says. “That’s all you <em>can </em>do.” Quinn nods, and looks up at the trees, pavement, anywhere but Rachel’s face. “Hey.” Rachel stops, and puts a hand gently on Quinn’s arm. “It’s okay to be scared.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is it?” Quinn whispers, pursing her lips.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” Rachel says. She reaches up to cup Quinn’s cheeks gently, and lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when their eyes finally meet. “You can’t let it hold onto you, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” Quinn says. Her voice is light as ever, but her words are heavy with an almost bitter anger. “Meeting you has been the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel doesn’t know what to do with the information that she’s also the <em>worst </em>thing, but she just smiles. “I’m glad I met you, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And suddenly she wants to kiss Quinn, right here, in the middle of the park, and the air is so thick she can barely breathe, and she stands on her toes and leans up, searching for permission on Quinn’s eyes, and just as she think <em>this</em> is the moment, Quinn subtly shakes her head, and takes a slight step back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry,” as all Quinn says. There’s <em>something </em>in her eyes, something that’s always been hiding in the back, and it’s so dark and anguished that it almost sweeps Rachel off her feet. “I wish I could.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel just says, “I understand,” even though she doesn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It should be awkward after that, but it’s not. If anything, it strengthens their relationship, and it’s like a dam of physical affection has been unleashed. If they’re not holding hands, they’re touching shoulders, or hugging, or brushing each other in passing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s nice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which is why Rachel doesn’t understand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everything seems to be going great, and she <em>knows </em>that Quinn is flirting with her, which is why, at the next opportunity, she tries again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’re lying in Finn’s bed, waiting for him to get back from an MRI, and watching quite possibly the worst TV show Rachel has ever seen. She wrinkles her nose and turns to Quinn, who it seems has been staring at <em>her </em>the whole time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That bad, huh?” she says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know you picked it, but…” Rachel trails off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” Quinn says, letting amusement lace her words. “It’s weird. That’s why I like it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The whole thing is so ridiculous and just so ‘Quinn’ that Rachel can’t help but let her next words slip out, “And that’s why I like <em>you</em>.” It’s only then that she notices how closely they’re pressed together, just short of cuddling, and she’s worried Quinn will pull away, but she doesn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Have I ever told you I’m glad I met you?” Quinn murmurs, fingers coming to rest just under Rachel’s chin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, but say it again,” Rachel says, letting Quinn guide her gaze higher until their eyes meet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m glad I met you.” Quinn is looking at her like it hurts, and Rachel doesn’t know why, but she wants to make it better.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m glad I met you, too,” she says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then she leans in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then Quinn pulls away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry,” she says, just like before. She won’t meet Rachel’s eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did I do something?” Rachel asks. “Have I been reading this wrong, because —”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No!” Quinn interrupts. She exhales and slides off the bed, throwing her face in her hands. “God, no. Rachel. I really like you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I really like you, too,” Rachel says, wondering why they’re saying all the right things while it still goes so wrong. “What’s the issue?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn bites her lower lip, which has started shaking, and though it makes Rachel’s heart ache in a way she can’t explain, it mostly just adds to her confusion. “You don’t want to know. Just trust me when I say that you don’t want to date me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I do,” Rachel insists.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, you <em>don’t</em>.” Quinn is staring her down so intensely it’s almost scary.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, I <em>do</em>.” And then they’re standing off at each other, both of them on their feet, and their jaws are clenched so tightly Rachel is seriously concerned she’s going to break a tooth. She’s angry and hurt and frustrated and just so <em>confused, </em>which has become a common feeling. “Why are you fighting this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just have to,” is all Quinn says. All of a sudden, her face twists out of determination and stubbornness and into one that Rachel can only read as desperate. She crosses the room in two long strides and is cupping Rachel’s face in between her hands. “You have to understand.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The pain in her voice is stronger than anything Rachel is feeling, so she just nods. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Her confusion is only maximized when Quinn whispers, “Will you hug me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” she breathes, and then she’s holding Quinn, or Quinn is holding her, and while Rachel is so relaxed and relieved and happy that she finally knows what it feels like to do nothing but wrap her arms around Quinn and stay that way, she can’t help but notice that Quinn’s body is feeling incredibly small. She pulls away and studies her face. “Are you doing okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn pauses. Then, “Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You need to eat,” she says. Her breath catches, and she stammers out, “Do you — I mean, have you — I mean, are you —”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not starving myself, if that’s what you think,” Quinn says. Rachel must be giving off a certain vibe, though she tries to hide it, because Quinn rolls her eyes. “I’m serious. I swear on my life that I’m not starving myself. I eat as much as I can. I promise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel doesn’t know what to make of that, but she just sighs and says, “Okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not lost on her that Quinn stops hugging her as much and starts wearing baggier clothing. If Rachel suspects that she’s getting skinnier, there’s no real way for her to tell because it’s hidden behind joggers instead of leggings, mom jeans, big jackets, and loosely tucked in shirts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quinn is an adult, Rachel,” Finn sighs, after Rachel has brought it up for the tenth time. “Trust that she can take care of herself.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you know why she’s so skinny?” Rachel asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finn stalls for a minute, and then says, “I do.” Rachel arches an eyebrow. “And like most things, it’s none of your business. But I can promise it’s not an eating disorder, and I can promise there’s nothing you can do about it. Just don’t ask her, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Fine</em>,” she mutters, wondering when she became the kind of person who just agreed about everything.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Finn cracks a smile. “You know, if she were here, she’d say you look cute when you’re mad.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>—</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next time she sees Quinn, they don’t mention it at all. Quinn meets her at the park with a smoothie and a smile, and asks “So, how’s work?” as soon as they start walking.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s good,” Rachel says. “I actually think Time might want me. I have an interview with them in a few weeks, and, God, I’m so nervous.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, of course they’ll want you,” Quinn says. She looks to be deliberating for a few seconds and then adds, “You’re an amazing writer.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel narrows her eyes. “How do you know?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Finn may or may not have sent me links to some of your articles,” Quinn shrugs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you liked them?” she asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn takes a sip of her smoothie and nods. “Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you, trust me. The way you integrate the facts with your opinion without coming across as overly-persuasive is incredible.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you,” is all she can say.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, what do you want to do as endgame?” Quinn asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I think travel,” Rachel says thoughtfully. “I want to share other cultures. I grew up in a really small town in Ohio, and half the people there don’t even know there’s a language besides English or food beyond lasagna and Big Macs.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you want to show them the rest of it,” Quinn says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I read this quote, ‘travel is the cure to prejudice’ or something like that,” Rachel agrees. “And I can’t help but feel like that’s true. All the racist or homophobic people I grew up with in Ohio had never really met the kind of people they were always ranting about. So for people who can’t travel, or just don’t, maybe I can do it for them and open their minds a little bit.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love that,” Quinn says softly. “You’re amazing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you?” she asks. A quizzical look prompts her to clarify, “End game career.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Screenwriting,” Quinn says with a soft smile. “Or documentaries. Or both. I don’t think I’d have the patience to write a novel, but to write a story and have it come to life? That would be a dream come true.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Anything written so far?” she asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn blushes, which Rachel reads as, <em>Yes</em>, and she admits, “There’s something I’ve been working on, actually. It’s a love story.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t peg you for the romantic type,” Rachel teases.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn blushes again, but rolls her eyes. There’s a wry smile on her lips. “I’m usually not, is the funny thing. There’s this one girl, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” Rachel murmurs, and if she wasn’t just so sure Quinn was talking about her, she’d be jealous.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The movie is about two people who care about each other,” she says, so simply. “But they can’t be together.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?” Rachel asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It doesn’t matter,” Quinn says. “It would never get made. The ending is too sad.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She doesn’t say anything else, so after a few seconds, Rachel rolls her eyes and urges, “How so?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe you’ll read it someday,” is all Quinn reveals.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s it called, at least,” Rachel tries, practically begging Quinn to tell her <em>anything</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn sighs. “It’s called, ‘Kiss Me Before I Go.’”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silence.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I would, you know,” Rachel says softly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Would what?” Quinn asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel squeezes her hand. “Kiss you.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn squeezes back. “I know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Rachel thinks it’s weird that they pretty much only ever hang out at the hospital or the surrounding areas, she doesn’t say anything. She figures if she had a friend who she knew was going to die within literal months, maybe weeks, at this point, she’d want to stay close, too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And she eventually notices she doesn’t really care; they have fun, and that’s the point.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Some days they sit in the cafe and just talk. Other times they hang out in Finn’s room, keeping him company through bedrest with bad jokes and crappy television, or they force him outside to get some fresh air and go feed the ducks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn is unlike anyone Rachel has ever met before. She seems so freed from the burdens of life and the impact of tomorrow. It’s like it doesn’t even exist to her. Everything they do, they do like it’s the most important thing in the world. Everything Rachel says, Quinn listens like she’s revealing the secrets of the universe. And every time Quinn speaks, there's a silent desperation to it.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>—</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The three of them are feeding the ducks one afternoon, Finn carrying bits of stale bread in a bag on his lap, and Rachel locks his wheelchair in place before taking her hands off the handles and reaching for some bread.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s just thrown her third handful when Quinn speaks. “You know, bread is bad for ducks.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Both turn to stare at her incredulously. “I’m sorry, what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s true,” she says. “My friend, Mercedes, is a huge animal nerd. She said bread is the equivalent of junk food. Like, if all you ate was tater tots. You’d get fat and malnourished.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So what the fuck are they supposed to eat?” Finn demands.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Corn, peas, oats,” Quinn says. “Or, I don’t know, real duck food?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They make that?” he asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you think people who have ducks feed them?” Quinn retorts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“People <em>have </em>ducks?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next time they make it to the pond, Rachel shows up with a bag of actually nutritious food and plops it in Finn’s lap before pushing them down the hall and towards the elevator. The ducks pretty much know them now, and they all flock to the side of the pond as they approach.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Almost like a kid on Christmas, Finn rips open the bag and offers Rachel a handful, who dutifully scatters a clump into the water. The ducks go crazy for it, but then investigate and swim away.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They don’t even <em>like </em>it,” she says in disbelief.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s what we get for spoiling them for five months,” Quinn snorts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then they’re laughing and Finn is throwing food at the ducks as if that’ll make them eat it. Quinn sprinkles some on the top of Rachel’s head, and then they’re having a duck food fight, with Finn complaining that it’s not fair because he’s in a wheelchair, as if he isn’t the most physically active out of all of them. After dodging a particularly well-thrown handful, Rachel loses her balance and almost falls into the pond itself, but Quinn catches her with a breathless, “Take it easy, Berry,” and Rachel wonders if this is what it feels like to be in love.</span>
</p><p class="p4">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>__</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, like, you’re at the hospital a lot,” Rachel says. Quinn looks at her with furrowed eyebrows, but amusement on her lips. “And, I don’t know, I can’t help but feel like you’ve put your whole life on hold. Not that that’s a bad thing!” she adds quickly, willing herself to stop talking, but also wanting to fix whatever crap is coming out of her mouth. “I know that I almost wanted to when Finn told me. I know I definitely would have if his had been terminal.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s okay,” Quinn says. “You’re right, I did. I mostly just stay here to hang out with her or go shopping for things she wants. What are you <em>really </em>asking?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you ever wonder what you’d be doing right now if your friend hadn’t gotten sick?” Rachel wonders. There’s an unmistakable rustle as Quinn turns her head on the picnic blanket to look at her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you mean? Like, <em>now </em>now, or just this time in general?” Quinn asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel shrugs as best she can lying down. “Both, I guess.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This time I’d probably be living the starving artist life and trying to write something worth being shown to anyone else,” Quinn thinks, “and literally at this moment? I have no idea. But I do know I probably wouldn’t have met you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Rachel agrees. “I hate to say it, but I’m glad you did. Meet me, I mean. Even if under such terrible circumstances.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When life gives you lemons,” Quinn supposes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We should make a documentary together,” Rachel says. “Like, we could go traveling, and I’ll do all the journalism stuff, and you can direct and make it look cool, and then you’ll get so famous that everybody will want to make your movies.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We could win an Oscar,” Quinn says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And be on Ellen,” Rachel adds. “What would our documentary be about?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing depressing,” Quinn says. She ponders the idea for a minute, and then says, “I’ll let you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I look forward to it,” Rachel smiles. She turns her gaze to the sky and exhales, hoping all her worries will fly away with her breath. “Even with all this stupid light pollution, the stars are so pretty tonight. Just look at them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am,” Quinn says, and when Rachel turns, she’s met with piercing green eyes fixed on her.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Cheesy, </em>she thinks. And then, <em>Yep, I’m in love.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next day, Rachel drags Quinn to the farmers market just down the street, promising they’ll be quick. “Finn really wants some good, fresh fruit,” she begs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not fair using Finn against me,” Quinn mutters, but she’s smiling as Rachel takes her hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The market is busy, despite the crisp afternoon, and she wonders why she ever stopped going to these things, because it’s clear the produce is handled, sold, and grown with more care and flavor and quality than any of the stuff she finds at the grocery store.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you think he’d rather have, like, a really nice basket of strawberries, or raspberries?” Rachel thinks aloud.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Strawberries,” Quinn says immediately. “The meds he’s on makes sour stuff taste weird.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Noted,” Rachel observes, quickly paying the vendor. “And for you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Me?” Quinn says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gotta get my two best buds something good,” Rachel says. “What are you in the mood for?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Honestly?” Quinn says. “I haven’t had a really good bell pepper in a long time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A bell pepper?” Rachel asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I used to eat them like an apple,” Quinn laughs. “I thought it was amazing how they were so crunchy and hydrating. Then I realized I could just drink actual water.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, my God,” Rachel mutters. “Remind me again why I love you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A pause. Quinn’s eyes widen. “You love me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, I guess,” Rachel says lamely. She flushes. “It doesn’t have to be a <em>thing</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes, it does,” Quinn says with a grin. She steps in closer. “Because I love you, too.” Rachel thinks this might be the moment Quinn finally kisses her, but it’s not.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If she wasn’t so elated over the fact that Quinn said it back, she’d be ranting until the next day about why Quinn refuses to kiss her because she still just doesn’t understand. She doesn’t understand.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>—</b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two days later, Quinn meets her in the cafe with a pair of headphones. “Can I play you some music?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can we walk?” Rachel asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn nods and takes her hand, leading her over to the path they always take to go see the ducks. “Music has been really comforting lately, and I wanted to share it with you, if that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course,” Rachel says. “Just figured somewhere besides the hospital would be a better place for it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As always, you’re right,” Quinn says, taking in the sunset.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry, what?” Rachel says, feigning confusion.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re right,” Quinn huffs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell Finn I said that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, I will,” Rachel promises.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel doesn’t think she’s connected with anyone as quickly as she’s connected with Quinn, except maybe Finn or Kurt. She realizes that because they never really go anywhere, anything they do involves a lot of talking, so they’ve gotten to know each other extremely quickly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sometimes they talk about Rachel’s work, sometimes they throw around movie ideas, but most of the time, they just sit or walk together and toss questions back and forth, as if to learn as much about each other as quickly as possible.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Favorite color?” Quinn asks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gold,” Rachel says immediately. “You?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Red,” Quinn decides. “I think when I was, like, fifteen, I listened to the Taylor Swift album titled that, and since then, I just really like it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Favorite Taylor Swift album?” Rachel wonders.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“1989,” Quinn says. “Wonderland is a pretty incredible song. But never make me choose ever again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I was never really a fan,” Rachel says softly. “Then I listened to the song ‘Soon You’ll Get Better.’ It was right after Finn got diagnosed, and it just popped up on YouTube. I think I cried for, like, two hours.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a powerful one,” Quinn says, eyeing Rachel carefully. “Finn <em>will </em>get better, you know that, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know,” Rachel says. “It’s just hard to think that way when he looks… the way he does. He’s just so skinny, and so tired, and he doesn’t even want to drink vanilla bean Frappucinos anymore, which I know is so dumb, but that’s his favorite thing in the world and he can’t even enjoy it anymore, and I just —”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey,” Quinn says, catching her thoughts before they unravel into a mess. “It’s hard. It’s okay that it’s hard.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” Rachel says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” Quinn says carefully. “You want to take care of him, but you have to take care of yourself too, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay,” Rachel agrees. Quinn keeps eyeing her with such a concerned expression, so she just waves her hand vaguely and says, “Really, it’s fine. Ask me something else.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Favorite ride at Disneyland?” Quinn asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve never been,” Rachel admits.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Seriously?” Quinn feigns offense. “How long have you been living in California?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s just so <em>far</em>,” Rachel complains. “In the midwest, every state is within, like, two hours of the next one. Finn and I seriously drove for almost ten one time, and we were <em>still </em>in California.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Big state,” Quinn agrees. “It’s why I love it. There’s so much variety. Nature, Hollywood, beaches, mountains, city life, farm life, and you’re here, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve never been to Disneyland, though,” Rachel says. “Do you still like me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I suppose,” Quinn sighs. “But going to have to fix that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel fixes it the next day, which she tells Quinn excitedly. “Finn said he’ll take me to Disneyland when he’s in remission.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Excellent,” Quinn nods. “I knew I liked him for a reason.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh yeah?” Rachel says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He takes care of you,” Quinn says simply.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Speaking of me,” Rachel starts, chuckling as Quinn rolls her eyes, “My interview with Time magazine is tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Quinn brightens. “Awesome. Come see me after. I’ll meet you in the cafe.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what time it’ll be,” Rachel says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll wait,” Quinn promises.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel flies through her interview like she’s been prepared her whole life. She answers every single question with grace and honesty, and while some of her candor surprises the person interviewing her, she hopes that she’s balanced it with enough ass-kissing to come across as genuine.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At the end, she asks her own set of questions with carefully placed terminology and vocabulary to show she knows what she’s talking about, and the interviewer looks incredibly pleased as they come to a close.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“This was really great,” he says, standing to shake her hand. “I think, and, well, I can’t promise anything, but I would be <em>very </em>surprised if you’re not offered a position by the end of this week.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you mean that?” she asks. She doesn’t say it, but she knows that if she allows herself to believe it, and then it all comes crashing down, she’ll be more heartbroken than she would have been in the first place.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” he assures her. “We have a big project coming up, a documentary, and I think you’d be such a wonderful addition to the team.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow,” Rachel breathes. “Thank you. I mean, I know it’s not for sure, but still. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He smiles. “I look forward to seeing you again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Afterwards, the only thing on her mind is Quinn, who has been so beaten down over the sickness of her friend that Rachel can’t wait to tell her the good news; <em>any </em>good news. She almost blows through a stop sign before she gets it together and relaxes enough to drive safely (though she does hold five above the speed limit the whole way).</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When she comes rushing into the hospital, and her excitement is so palpable she gets confused looks thrown her way because, really, how happy can someone be to be visiting a hospital? It doesn’t slow her, though, and she heads to the cafe where she searches instantly for the green eyes she’d known anywhere.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nothing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Frowning, she figures Quinn just had to go to the bathroom, or maybe is hanging out with Finn, so she starts to head to his room. Just next door to his, however, is just about the most chaotic hospital scene she’s ever seen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nurses are running in and out, various codes and calls for medications flying left and right, and she can only wonder what’s going on. She’s about to keep walking, hurry past and push any thoughts of the same thing happening to Finn out of her head, when she spots him just around the frame of his door, hanging onto the wall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Finn?” she asks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns to look at her, and she doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so heartbroken. “Rachel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s going on?” she says softly. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quinn,” he chokes out, looking at the room again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What about her?” she asks. A part of her already knows, though she doesn’t know how, and her heart stops as she follows his gaze through the glass wall and at the bed in the center of the room. There’s a body lying on it, and beeping and machines, and the face of the body isn’t visible, but Rachel recognizes that jean jacket like it's her own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Quinn,” he says again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Finn,” Rachel says. There’s a rushing in her ears and she’s willing this all to be some sort of sick joke, and all she can say is, “I don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The body looks so lifeless on the bed in front of her, any movement obviously caused by the seemingly hundreds of pairs of hands working together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’ll save her,” Finn whispers, like he’s trying to convince himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rachel just wants to scream, <em>I don’t understand</em>, until someone will tell her what the hell is going on, but there’s a pit in her stomach because she realizes she knows. “A car accident, or something?” she asks desperately, because the only other explanation is one she refuses to believe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She said she’d tell you,” Finn says softly. There’s a single tear running down his cheek, but he looks more heartbroken for her than himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, the nurses step back from the bed, seemingly all at once, but the body is still looking lifeless as ever. Slowly, they cover her with a bedsheet, and Rachel can quietly hear someone call out, “Time of death, five thirty-two PM.” One by one, they file out of the room, looking absolutely exhausted. A few stay back to disconnect some wires, fill out some notes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She’s gone?” Rachel says, but it comes out more like a question.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She said she’d tell you,” Finn repeats, heartbreak replaced with a horrifyingly blank expression she’s never seen him wear before.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tell me what?” Rachel asks. Silence. “Tell me <em>what</em>, Finn? Finn!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He just looks at her. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it all makes sense.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The fatigue, the lack of sleep, the poor eating habits, the innate knowledge of Finn’s treatments, the baggy clothing Rachel now realizes was to hide the skin and bones beneath. The way there was always something that Rachel could tell Quinn was hiding, even when it seemed like she was pouring her heart out. The way Quinn wouldn’t kiss her. The way she said Rachel was the best and worst thing. The way she wouldn’t allow them to get closer in the way Rachel had tried so hard.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">”There was no friend,” she manages to get out. He nods, a half movement she’s not sure he even consciously does on purpose.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without even knowing her brain was making the connection, she realizes what love story Quinn was writing, despite never reading the script herself. Even worse? She realizes she knows how it ends.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Finn,” she breathes, She gasps, like she’s just come up from holding her breath underwater, but no amount of inhaling makes her any less dizzy. She wants to scream, <em>No! No, that’s not Quinn. There’s been a mistake.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But she doesn’t.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because the truth hits her like a punch to the gut, sucking all the air out of her lungs, and making her wonder whether she’ll ever be able to breathe the way she used to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because, finally, she understands.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>quinnfebrey on tumblr. come chat!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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